


How To Exercise Your Demon

by rowanthestrange_yugihell



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: And Minor, And That Vague Sort Of, Animal Shelters, At Least An Attempt At, Autistic Atem, Cultural Differences, Dog Walking, Gen, Historical Accuracy, Meta, Puzzleshipping, That's Just Atem Being Himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanthestrange_yugihell/pseuds/rowanthestrange_yugihell
Summary: In which Atem finds himself in the middle of a debate that, surprisingly, isn't as old as time, because this is the first he's hearing about it.





	How To Exercise Your Demon

  


Atem doesn't like dogs.

At least, not the way they want him to. It's nothing personal, he just doesn't. Tristan says of course he doesn't, he's from Ancient Egypt, it's only natural he's a cat person.

But he doesn't care much for cats either.

There's something about this time and place and its oddly defined rules. One of them is: You must like animals, and here 'like' means you can't simply appreciate their utility and help, but instead must go 'awww' and exclaim how cute it is, and how much you want to hug it, and dress it in absurd little outfits. 

He can respect animals, certainly. He's been proud of his brave and powerful horses, has noted the protected cats of the palace keeping it free of vermin and disease, been grateful for the meat that has graced his table. But this is not, apparently, the same thing.

Most people don't seem to find this acceptable, and the majority of discussions end up invoking a second of the undefined rules that govern here: There are always sides, and you are expected to align yourself to one, unwaveringly. Ryou will show him cat videos, and Tristan will dogs, and Kaiba will tell him that the third side of hating all of them is the right one. But he doesn't feel any of those things, and sometimes it seems like every time he talks to someone it has to come up and he has to be converted. It's tedious and far too reminiscent of foreigners to the court incessantly telling him their ideas about the gods.

One of the only people with whom he can talk about animals without being shown some fluffy thing in socks, is Rebecca. They can talk about Copernicus - his eating, his training, his dodgy hock, and she's happy to let him complain about things while she taps away at some computer code or essay, in a way he never feels is appropriate for him to do with the others. Besides, she knows how disappointing he is compared to what he should be, and there's something freeing in that. Rebecca tells him stories from some of the people who live in America - ones that understand respecting and worshipping animals without the need to touch and kiss them, and invites him to join her and her Grandfather if they go and see their friends again. It's comforting to know that at least some people might feel as he does.

Sadly, that day is not today.

Today is the day where Tristan is determined to win.

  


* * *

  


Atem is handed a leash and told a list of instructions that he tries hard to listen to. Well, he tries to try. It's extremely noisy in the animal shelter, he's tired because he's not been sleeping well (no-one seems to know what he means by 'the sun is wrong' but then neither does he), and frankly he isn't that good at being told what to do.

Tristan has already been bundled out ahead of him with two fairly large dogs, rather bigger than the one he has at home, and assurances from the women on the desk that he'll be fine. 

The women give him no such reassurances, asking repeatedly if he's sure, and that they wouldn't usually do this, only their dog run (whatever that is) is being refurbished after a hole was bitten through the wire fencing.

"-so don't take the muzzle off!"

Atem, done with the noise, lets the door bang shut behind him, and the creature at his side jumps and growls at it.

The growling confirms to him that it must be a dog, because otherwise its appearance is wildly different from any dog he's ever seen. Its snout is crumpled, as if it ran into a wall as a pup, or some spell went wrong on it; its black body is as short as a cat and yet stocky like a miniature bull; and its face is covered by a metal cage, except for its bulging eyes staring in all directions.

Atem walks ahead a pace, and the leash pulls tight against the thing that looks like a fabric yoke wrapped around its torso. The dog doesn't move, but continues staring around the drive.

"Come, yii." Atem commands. Nothing. "Here, yip yip, Demon." The dog doesn't look at him, but responds to its name, striding forward to the extent of the leash, and trying to pull him like a plough. 

Atem digs in his heels, he's well practiced at that, and stands resolute as the dog starts to huff. 'Maha'ad', his mind supplies, and he wonders why until he gets an image of the magician standing and waiting for he and Mana to stop messing around. He picks a spot on the horizon, lets his eyes drift half shut and takes a deep breath.

A few minutes of adding and subtracting attack and defense points of random cards later, Demon stops pulling and lies down. Atem takes a step forward. Demon springs to the end of the leash again. He goes back to counting, and tries to ignore the sensation of the eyes watching him through the window.

It takes at least quarter of an hour before they get out of the driveway, but Demon finally seems to understand that he's not about to be dragged around, and while the dog still walks firmly in front of him, as far away as possible, it's no longer hurting his wrist.

Demon clearly knows this path, as they end up at a rather deserted field. Atem thinks he sees Tristan leaving, being pulled out the other side by his charges. When they reach the middle of the field, Demon stops and lies down. Atem has never walked a dog, but he has of course seen them, in both real life and in video, and he thinks now is probably the time to play 'fetch'. But it's not going to be able to catch or carry anything, given the cage, and it doesn't particularly look like it wants to play either. He settles for sitting down next to it, and while it gives him a fleeting sidelong look, it makes no other sign that it even notices he's there.

Atem idly ponders the dog while it rests, if that is indeed what it's doing. 'Demon' means some kind of monster, he understands that. Much like the wrathful or otherwise dangerous gods that live in service to another. It is lying down, yet still alert, like a sphinx, and the ripple of muscle under its short black hair is like Anubis, he thinks (perhaps heretically, he was never as knowledgeable in these things as he should be, and now he has no-one to ask).

He feels no particular desire to run his hand along it, but to show willingness to the spirit of Tristan's plan, he reaches his hand out. Immediately Demon jumps up and snarls, hits his hand hard with the metal in what clearly would otherwise have been a bite, and then skips to the farthest extent of the leash, staring at him and making deep angry gurgling sounds with its teeth bared.

Atem keeps the hand holding the leash clenched tight, and rubs the back of the other one against his leg to dull the pain. Instead of looking at it, he drops his eyes as if he were a child (not that he was ever much held to that rule himself), and tries to make his heart slow back down. He isn't angry at Demon - he isn't fond of being touched himself, and while it has been a long time since he has bitten anyone for it, that's not to say it has never happened.

The line between them relaxes as Demon resumes its sphinx-pose, and Atem does his best to try and suggest that it shan't happen again. Mostly he does this by imagining what Yugi would be like if he were here. Kind and gentle and strong and no intention of ever doing anything to hurt anyone, the exception to every rule about people that Atem has ever created. He imagines being alongside him, hands touching, minds too, the way they used to. A voice in his head that sounds like Maha'ad criticises him for putting Yugi on a pedestal, but it isn't Atem's fault, the gods have seen fit to incarnate everything good into an earthly form, and his scraps of piety can't let such a thing go unobserved, be reasonable brother. 

He opens his eyes and the sensation of Yugi beside him vanishes, in its place, a dog, flat on its side, dozing in the warm rays of the sun.

  


* * *

  


A woman leads Demon back to the kennels, and as the dog goes, it turns slightly to glimpse him. In Atem's mind, even though he knows it can't understand, he tells Demon to go in peace, and inclines his head minutely.

"Well, I'll be honest, we weren't sure how that was going at the beginning there, but that's the most comfortable I've seen Demon around someone new, which I know you're looking at her and not thinking it's much, but honestly-"

"I just let her be." Atem says, signing his name out on a register, struggling with the characters until he gives up and does a wonky sort of scribble like Kaiba does.

"Sometimes we all need that, don't we?" The woman at the desk smiles at him, and thanks him for helping at the rescue today, filling his hands with the standard pamphlets and business cards in case he wants to come back.

"So, uh, how did it go? I wasn't expecting to be split up like that." Tristan says, swiping some dog hair off his jeans. "And man, I didn't know how much two dogs could poop, but I don't think we'll be adding another member of the family right now, 'cus I ain't doing that again."

Atem doesn't respond and they walk their way back to Tristan's motorcycle. He's still not sure how he feels about it, it's like riding behind someone on a horse, except the horse can go an aroura in 2 seconds flat. And it squashes his hair.

"So, the big question," Tristan says, holding out a helmet for Atem. "Are you a dog person now?"

"Do I still get a ride back if I say no?" Atem's hands are on the helmet, but Tristan doesn't let go, and exaggeratedly hums.

"Yeah, I guess so." He says, releasing it. 

"Then no." Atem says, and Tristan sighs and moves to put on his own helmet.

"What do I have to do to get you to like a dog, yeesh."

_'Well, that wasn't what you asked.'_ Atem thinks, clambering onto the back of the motorcycle, too tired to put it into words.

He doesn't like dogs - at least, not the way they want him to - but in his own way, yes, he certainly does like Demon.

  



End file.
